A Chance to Die
by Megakat Salvage
Summary: One of the SWAT Kats has passed away. Written first person in the guise of a blog post from the remaining, retired SWAT Kat. ((This occurs many years after A Chance to Live concludes. But it is perfectly fine to read before A Chance to Live is finished, in fact, I encourage it! The second section will actually explain who is narrating.))


To my friends, family, shareholders, employees, etc, etc, and all readers of this blog...

This entry is a little different. It's also the last. I regret to inform you that today, my dear, dear friend, partner, and brother passed away at the age of 71. I will not be here to share your grief at the funeral, and I apologize deeply for that.

I owe it to my buddy to say that we didn't make this choice lightly. But... He wasn't going to wake up. I cannot believe I chose to let him die today. But we did. I know there will be some backlash. People will say he shoulda been allowed to die 'naturally'. Well we've been forcing him to stay alive unnaturally for two and a half years. What's your point?

By the time you read this it will probably be tomorrow, instead of today and you may even have seen the news releases. But right now it's today still. I am not certain I'm making sense. I've had something to drink. It's making me think too much, instead of dulling the pain.

You can probably guess I won't have good things to say about today. Seems like I didn't sleep well last night. I had dreams of laughing bad-Kats, fire, explosions. Dark Kat flying around on a unicorn, that kind of stuff. I kinda had hope last night that I wouldn't wake up this morning. Then I wouldn't have to go through with it. But no such luck, the day started out the same as every other. I've been informed I've become a creature of habit.

'Creature of habit' may not be a strong enough term. One time Ian left for six weeks, a vacation to visit family or something. I told him there was no reason to hire a temp guy while he was gone, but he was shocked, like I'd offended. So I gave in. He'd started carrying around this notebook and one day when he laid it down I got curious and peeked in it.

_I laughed my head off. It said: Sir will rise promptly at six of the clock and proceed to the lavatory and shower. 15 minutes. After brief shower Sir will then swim in his laps pool au naturale. 20 minutes. While Sir is swimming you may enter the boudoir to tidy; leave a towel for Sir poolside, and clean smalls on the bed. Then attend to Sir's attire for the day, press, etc. clothing appropriate for the intended activities; Be attentive, Sir will greet you as he's dressing in the smalls. Sir will join you in the walk-in wardrobe within 30 minutes of beginning his swim so be prompt. Sir depends on his man to select tasteful matches in attire. He favors the Windsor tie. Take the opportunity to discuss breaking his fast. Attend to Sir's schedule for the day. Do remind Sir to select a walking stick. As well, sir requires your assistance with his shoes at times, offer to help, do not wait for him to ask. Else he will attempt to 'tough it out' as they say._

He has me timed! And right at the top it said "Sir's Schedule." I can just hear him say this as I type, _"Suhr's Shyeed-yule. Ou naturrahl."_

Guess I have a pretty set routine. I didn't exactly spring out of bed this morning I'll admit. But when I hauled my bad hip out of bed I went to the window, first, like usual. I love the view I have from up here of the skyline. MegaKat City is beautiful in early morning. So since I'm so predictable, yeah I hobbled to the bathroom. Those heated marble tiles were worth every penny, by the way. I hope someone enjoys them as much as I have.

I remember when I sketched out the blueprint for this penthouse 17 years ago, the architect I had hired almost laughed at me before he realized I was serious about this tiny joint. He convinced me to add some bedrooms to the top floor of the labs building for guests, and helped redesign the layout a little but the house is just about what I wanted. It's still maybe a little big for one Kat. I didn't figure I needed extra bedrooms for kittens by then and I don't need a bowling alley, a movie theater and a formal dining hall, like that architect seemed to think. My bedroom and that monstrosity of a closet are still too big for me. The closet had been designed with a his and hers layout, because… well. I still had hope. About four years ago I had it all ripped out and redone. Now Ian has room for that steam press he kept hinting I needed. Gotta admit the crease it puts in the suit pants is sharp. I don't think I'm elegant enough for Ian's taste. I prefer lower key stuff. Sometimes new staff downstairs demand to see my security pass when they spot this doofus walking around in blue jeans. (I've got blue jeans from the garage days yet, though last I checked I couldn't zip them anymore.)

But he keeps me presentable for meetings and those black tie things Callie ropes me into. She likes having a SWAT Kat on her arm, if not in her bed. Sorry, Callie, I know that will sound harsh to your ears, but I guess I'm a little bitter.

So then I shower, hobble back out on the patio 'au naturale' which since I'm eight stories higher than any neighbors and it's my place I can do what I want, thank you very much Ian, and I do about thirty laps. I always feel less pain after that or at least I do for a couple hours.

And yes, there was a towel ready when I climbed out, and there were underwear on the bed, which I pulled on. I should make my own bed. That'd probably offend Ian too. I always hear him before I see him, because he's moving hangars around in the closet or something. And yeah, then he talks breakfast.

_Good morning, sir. Orange juice and crepes this morning sir, Mrs. Puffkin has some excellent straw-burries this morning. Mrs. Furlong telephoned earlier, sir._

She called to confirm. Yeah, I had been hoping she'd cancel. It was becoming more real by the minute. I felt like it was me on death row.

My nice predictable morning diverged from there today. Told him I wanted him to clear my schedule (shyeed-yule) for the rest of the week. He was immediately apologetic, as I walked into the closet. He knew we'd been seriously talking about options. I went digging for my own clothes this morning. He was fussing with the steamer, cause he'd been pressing a business suit for a meeting I was supposed to have today, but he spotted me pulling out T-shirts. He leaves me alone when I'm dressing down. Jeans and T-shirts don't need pressed or matched with a tie. Ian ties a snappy tie though. Windsor.

I have to sit on the bench by the shoe drawers to get dressed, I can't just bend over anymore. I don't know how he loses my sneaks every time they get put away but I finally found the things after opening all the drawers. I swear he's out to get them lost 'accidentally'. But he comes over and ties the laces for me like I'm a kitten. Used to that though.

He was hanging the pants on that prissy valet stand thing I didn't know existed until I got one. Then he spoke. Said that I have a 'great many' suits but none in black.

That shattered my thoughts a second, realizing I would need a black suit for the funeral. Until I realized I won't. But I didn't know how to explain that, so I told him I'd wear slacks and a blazer or something.

_Please do remember to select a walking stick, sir._

I grabbed one out of the stand once I was dressed and headed to my office. I think I thanked him. I hope I did anyway. When I got into the office I was a little more at ease. I have everything set up just like I like in there. The four monitors on the desk jump to life with a touch but I found myself staring blankly at the emails and the production numbers. I read the same report six times before I gave up and tried emails again. I woulda welcomed a crisis today but there wasn't much serious. Mostly info from some of the vice presidents and the accountants.

That's when a blur sped past my window and I just barely caught sight of Turbokat 4 before it disappeared. I brought up the schedule on the computer and of course it would be Dewey and Colt. I know they're going to try to blame one of the other teams, but I saw the tail number. Course Colt may just be along for the ride whether he likes it or not, Dewey was pilot, but I think not. They should have their fuel rationed again. Not my problem anymore.

I split the radio feeds on all three teams to closed caption, and like I figured they were just messing around. I would be lying if I said me and my partner never raced around for no reason, but we're no longer vigilantes. The teams got an image and a brand reputation to uphold. Hope they didn't buzz any of you awake, my good blog buddies.

Still hard to believe we have 8 teams ready to hit the skies at a moment's notice, and more semi-retired. And a couple guys are already dead and buried, lost on missions. And dead and not buried.

Right across from my desk is a wall of pictures. They've held pride of place on that wall for seventeen years, though I guess it's been 31 years since the one was taken?

There couldn't of been a more beautiful day for that wedding. We were so dead broke back then. My suit was borrowed, and his was a badly fitting rental. Somehow nobody'd noticed that my red ballcap had migrated back to my head and was backwards. We were too happy to care probably. And Felina, she was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Callie had taken her all over town and insisted on the dress being her gift because the fancy couture place was ridiculously out of budget. The picture was taken in front of this wall thing of succulents at MegaKat Botanical Gardens. You know, those spikey hens and chicks type plants, and things? So it looked pretty cool. We were all smiling. Even Feral, he actually looked proud. Even Blake was smiling a big toothless smile, in Felina's arms.

It's the best, the last really good picture I have of all of us. Like a family.

There's another poster sized photo right by it. Feral's also in this one, but he looks like he's about to have a coronary. He was so angry at us. Found out later he thought it'd put Felina in danger. Guess it did in a way. But he is glowering from Manx's Enforcer honor guard. He and Callie are flanking us. We're g-suited, but maskless, in front of a cheering screaming crowd. Finally got our SWAT Kat day and parade, like Manx had been promising. We're standing there grinning like happy idiots and holding the key to the city between us. Callie was beaming, Manx was anticipating the boost to his approval rating, but it was only three weeks later that he was shot, so he didn't have a long time to enjoy it. In that picture you can just see that Felina was pregnant with Jacob. I've always called him Squirt. I don't want to say I have favorites but there's something special about Squirt.

Course they faded in a shot of the Turbokat, one of the originals, streaking through the sky in that image. I have a chunk from the previous one on my desk as a paperweight. I found it on Kbay, being sold as a "genuine piece of the Turbokat, complete with blood." Yeah that about describes it. Regular readers of this blog are going to have read about that crash and our first, but unhappily not the last, sojourn in Megakat Memorial.

There's other pictures. Feral and Felina, dancing at the wedding. The four of us and Blake hanging at Megakat State Beach. Blake's got this doofy sailor hat thing on and is scowling at the camera. Blake and Squirt blowing out candles on cakes. Feral smiling but looking tired and sick, because he was, with Felina's arm around his shoulders and Allyson only a few months old in his arms. There's a shot of us on a couch, little CJ just newborn in Felina's lap, Callie on one side with Ria and Allyson, my partner on the other with Blake who's got his finger in his nose, me next to him with Jacob on my lap. We're trying to smile but it's strained, for the grownups anyway. That one was taken at Feral's funeral.

It's strange how different my life is now from when I was young, poor, and energetic. I used to do upside down sit-ups hanging from a bar, in greasy coveralls. I've got Ian now keeping me on time and dressing snazzy and eight pins and plates in my low back keeping me walking but not shoe tying.

Ian got me going when the car was ready. Now I gotta have a couple of guys in the Mercedes with me and oftener than not there's another car following. Ever since that whole "kidnapped for ransom' thing. I mean it wouldn't of been such a big deal. The fact they targeted us showed they were stupid. But maybe not that stupid, or else they woulda grabbed me or him. I like to envision how that'd go! Especially how Felina woulda kicked their tails. Instead they grabbed the two college interns working on fuel mixes that summer.

I think we were all still pretty radical back then, and then there's the whole thing of the corporation of -paramilitary soldiers with jets-. But couldn't endanger the students so we paid the ransom and got them back. Klepto and Mouth quick caught the kidnappers and reclaimed the cash back right after. Like I said, the kidnappers were stupid. Still since then nobody feels kindly about me driving myself. I still pay for that one intern's psychiatrist fees. So maybe they have a point.

I left a little late. Today the guys in the car were real quiet. Usually we're all giving each other crud but news and rumors spread fast in a close knit job. The facility was same as always this morning, kinda cheerless with comatose people on vents in wheelchairs in front of the big TV in the front room. Still the best place in town. They're really good with those things you worry about, preventing bed sores and stuff.

I went straight back to the room and found CJ, Jacob, and Ria were all there already.

My little sweetheart Ria hugged me right off. She's become a beautiful young lady. For those of you interested, yes she's still single. Squirt pulled up a chair for me. I like to think he takes after me. CJ was settled gingerly on the foot of the bed. It's not like the occupant is gonna care. Then Ria asks if I know anything new about Blake.

I tell her no. It's a lie, but I pull it off. Blake's been missing for nearly seven weeks now. For… Six weeks three days and 16 hours. I don't know how his mother is holding up. I know it keeps me up at night. When Blake and his partner Cubby fell off tracking, I happened to be in the communications center, chatting up a pretty lieutenant who was all embarrassed to be speaking to The Boss. We were all scrambling trying to get the tracking link back up. One second they're there, the next they're gone.

There's a myriad amount of islands in the area where they disappeared so everybody says "Cubby and BoneCold, they're just chilling, drinking coconut milk and waiting for us to find them." But that's still a lot of open water.

So I'm lying to Ria now because I know more about it than I've let on, and we're trying to make small talk about the weather. There are no words to describe how weird and hard it was. We're all in there, trying not to stare at what we're there to see, and then Felina walks in. There's a chorus of "hey, mom" from the kits, I reach out to her and she comes straight into my arms. I'm holding her and Ria starts to bawl, and CJ suddenly walks out of the room but he comes back after a minute with wet cheeks. Squirt's stoic, always been able to hide his emotions, better than I ever could.

Almost as one she and I turned and look at the bed. "We're doing the right thing," she says softly. I nodded but I couldn't trust myself to speak, not right then.

Nothing's changed any over the past two and a half years, other than he lost muscle and gained swollen legs and hands. His eyes were open, but that wasn't new, or encouraging. There wasn't any more of a person there than there'd been before. Same feeding tube, which was empty today considering there was no reason to turn it on, ventilator chugging, catheter doing its thing, posters on the walls and the ceiling because we liked to dupe ourselves into thinking he was actually seeing them.

A nurse entered and told us the medical director was there, and asked if we were ready to proceed.

Then I think we all lost it.


End file.
